Dark As Hell, Black As Night
by SabineLaGrande
Summary: Snape looks back on what he's lost and gained. PostOotP.


He slumped into a chair in his private quarters at Hogwarts. He had heard now, of course, everything that had happened. He could not pretend to be sad that Black had died. It was bound to happen.  
  
No, Severus thought with a sigh, he was not sad for Sirius. He was sad for her.  
  
They had been very close at Hogwarts. It seemed a most unlikely pairing. He had the sharp lines of a boy who had grown far too quickly. His bone- straight black hair sank straight to his shoulders, fine and perennially oily. She, on the other hand, was dazzlingly beautiful in those days. Her wavy, thick black hair flowed unimpeded down her back, curving ever so slightly as to frame those limpid blue hooded eyes perfectly. He was the outcast, rather by choice; she was, albeit unwillingly, a social butterfly.  
  
Despite their outward differences, they shared an almost identical temperament. They were proud and defensive around others. Yet when they were alone together, Severus would watch her face fall like the dropping of a mask. Her pride melted away as fast as his. Her startling eyes filled with an unfathomable sadness. He would hold her for hours, just trying to protect her from whatever it was that hurt her. She never once told him what was wrong. Every scenario flashed though his head. But most days, he didn't think about it. He just held her to him as if he was using her to staunch the wounds in his heart, his own pain hard to bear. They shared a secret, unbreakable bond.  
  
This was how He had lured them. Severus shuddered involuntarily to think about it now. They were sitting in the remotest corner of the common room. She surreptitiously slid the arm of her black school robes up and showed him the still tender Mark. He gaped and looked at her with new found admiration. She seemed to have aged years before him. She had the easy grace of some lady of old. He felt small and insignificant in her presence. And then, to his shock, this regal vision deigned to lean into him and told him that her Lord wanted him- yes, him- to join in his service.  
  
It was her eyes that convinced him. The clear pools now burned with cold fire. He looked deep into them. As he looked, he realized that all her fear, all her pain was gone. This was the final reassurance. He nodded his head slowly.  
  
He would have given his very life to never have lived that moment. He sealed his pact with the Dark Lord, urged on by Bellatrix. He would have done anything for her. She was still a radiant queen in his eyes. She, along with their Lord, taught him well. He learned to trade all of his pain for quiet, creeping rage. He felt powerful and mighty in his anger. He tortured and even killed with enjoyment, all the while feeding the monster inside of him.  
  
Then it seemed one day as if scales had fallen from his eyes. He had traded his life of pain for a life of madness. He had let himself become an insane demon. He knew it when he looked into her eyes. All traces of the Bella he had known had disappeared. He played the game for a little while longer. He pretended that nothing had ever happened. He even tried to enjoy his work. But it was all a farce. He finally gave himself up to Dumbledore, still lamenting the loss of his Bella, the beautiful, sad, radiant maiden who used to lie in his arms.  
  
Now it had come to this. She had finally gone and done it- murdered the last of her family over the so-called purity of blood. He had really hated Black, but no one deserved this. He had seen too much death, caused too much pain to condone it.  
  
It was remarkable where their choices had led them. Severus lived a life of penance for his sins. He was working against the only person who he had ever truly loved. And Bella. he rubbed his temples and sighed painfully. Bella had chosen to give herself over to insanity. She had given in to the seductive, murderous fury that he had once indulged in.  
  
The worst part of all was having to see her again. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, for her just to be Bella again. Her face revolted him now. He tried to push the thought out of his mind. He glanced at the hourglass. It was nearly two in the morning. He extricated himself from his heavy robes with a flick of his wand and crawled into bed. He reached for the tiny vial of Dreamless Sleep potion that stood on the nightstand. He drank it off and let oblivion sink in. One last clear thought ran through his mind. He was reminded of a bit of the Muggle poetry he had taken to reading. Two lines settled themselves in his brain just before he drifted off:  
  
"For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night."  
  
Shakespeare's Sonnet 147: "My love is as a fever, longing still For that which longer nurseth the disease; Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill, The uncertain sickly appetite to please. My reason, the physician to my love, Angry that his prescriptions are not kept, Hath left me, and I desperate now approve Desire is death, which physic did except. Past cure I am, now Reason is past care, And frantic-mad with evermore unrest; My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are, At random from the truth vainly express'd; For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. 


End file.
